


Of All the King's Magic

by owlaris



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Height Differences, M/M, Magic, Parallel Universes, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaris/pseuds/owlaris
Summary: Life is wonderful for Aziraphale. He lives in a nice flat in London and fulfilled his dreams of owning his own book shop. He spends his days reading, finding rare and obscure books, and eating the best food he can find. Why would he want that to change?Unfortunately we dont always get to choose what happens in our lives, and one day everything turns upside down.After facing death, Aziraphale is transported to a world unlike hes ever seen before. And suddenly... he's supposed to be the king?!Enemies suddenly vying for his head or his hand, a personal guard that seems to hate his guts, and a witch who tells him he's exactly what the prophecy calls for, how could things have turned this way?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! 
> 
> Soooooo this was originally a rp prompt I posted on cherp.chat! I had gotten a response that unfortunately fizzled out before it got too far, but the idea for it was really good so I thought I would write it out as an actual fic! I hope you all enjoy!!

"Have a lovely day sir!" Aziraphale called, clutching a first edition of _Divina Commedia_ to his chest and watching a disgruntled 'customer' walk out of his shop. He made a tsk sound as the door shut. "Sell my only copy of this?" He scoffed and walked it back to its spot on his hidden shelves. Not many people ventured so far back into his shop, they usually saw the mass produced paper and hard back books he kept in front to deter people from searching through his fabulous collection and would think its just your average book shop.

All is well that ends well. He was able to keep another of his valuable first editions out of the hands of people who likely wouldn't appreciate them.

He slipped the book back into its rightful place and let out a contented sigh. Humming, he turned and walked up front just as the cuckoo clock chirped out in bell like tones. Time to close the shop! He quickly pulled out his keys, locked the front door and flipped the open sign to closed.

His closing schedule began; count the register, straighten the front of the store, dust a little but give up because a book store is going to be dusty and theres no stopping that, wipe the front door window because children can't keep their hands off glass, and then grab his bag and head out for the night.

As he walked down the streets of London, he had a craving for sushi. That sounded like a lovely idea for dinner! And his favorite sushi restaurant was on the way home.

A quick check to make sure the street was clear, and he was off to the other side. A few more blocks down, and he was at the restaurant. He was greeted with friendly hello's, and he greeted them back in Japanese. They always enjoyed that. They gave him his to go bag, and he was off once more.

It was late and quiet, not much activity on a Tuesday night, and his home wasnt much farther away. Just one more street to cross, and he'd get to enjoy some delicious sushi and a great book.

Three steps into the street, a horn blared in his ear. He was so startled, when he looked up the truck was almost on him. He barely had enough time to throw his arms up in meager defense, eyes shutting tight. But... the truck never hit. Instead, he felt a strange falling sensation. 

He felt the earth soften under his feet and a gentle breeze ruffle his hair. He slowly opened his eyes and lowered his arms, having to blink away the bright sunlight. Sunlight? But it was night just seconds ago!

He also wasn't standing in a clearing in the center of a forest.

He looked around. First in wonder, then in terror. Where was he? How did he get here? Was this heaven? Was he killed by that truck?

So many questions... what was going on?

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew against him, pushing him towards the tree line. As he approached, the underbrush and branches moved out of his way. Ok... very strange.

Cautiously, Aziraphale followed the cleared path for him. Hours it felt like, before he reached other clearing. This one had a small stream cutting across it. He was on one side, and on the other was a small encampment. 

Horses, armored men, tents, covered caravans and open carts. Was this a kind of renaissance faire set up? Even if it wasn't these people would be able to help him... right?

Slowly, he emerged from the tree line. "H-hello?" He yelled out. "Could anyone tell me where I am?"

A few heads popped up, then yelling. Before his eyes, numerous crossbows were being aimed at him. He threw his arms up in fear. "Please! Dont shoot! Dont shoot! I'm friendly! I mean you no harm, I'm just trying to figure it where I am!"

"Hold your fire!" A deep voice boomed. A tall, grey haired man stepped out, a scar decorating his wrinkled face. He crosses the stream, a sword drawn and held at the ready. Aziraphale stood still, face surely white as a sheet. The man was soon standing before him.

"Your right arm. Let me see it," he demanded, and Aziraphale immediately held it out for him to inspect. Stabbing his sword into the ground, the soldier grabbed his wrist roughly and shoved the sleeve up. As soon as he did, he saw a glowing mark. A mark which Aziraphale was surprised to see glowing. He knew it was a strange birthmark, what looked to be a feather within a halo, but it had never glowed before!

The soldier dropped to his knees, grip turning from rough to gentle as he pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's hand. "Your majesty," he muttered. "Forgive me, I needed to be sure. If I have in any way harmed you, I will accept any punishment you see fit."

W... what? Majesty? Groveling? What was going in?!

He looked up, confused, only to see all the other soldiers kneeling as well, crossbows long since dropped. Before he could ask the question he most wanted answers to, the soldier who approached him stood.

"This way, your majesty. We'll get you food and drink before we depart. We must get you to the palace as quickly as possible. Do you ride?"

"Pardon? Ride? Ride what?" He sputtered out. Those were not the questions he wanted answers to.

"Horses, sire. And I'll take that as a no. Please, do not fret. I'll have my men make one of our caravans as comfortable as possible for you. Its not worthy, but we can pad it with some blankets and pillows from the sleep packs my men carry when out like this."

Before he could protest, Aziraphale was being pulled into the camp, surrounded by unknown, armored, and armed people.

\--------------------

_Not as fast or as comfortable as a car, that's for sure_ Aziraphale thought as the covered wagon lurched over bumps and small stones in the road. Despite the cart being padded with pillows and blankets, happily donated by the soldiers in this unit, it was still a bit of a rought ride.

"Not much farther, your majesty," the general said, following behind the wagon on a massive brown horse. "We sent word ahead that you have arrived, hopefully your quarters and personal guard will be ready when we get there."

"You've been extremely kind, general," he replied. "Thank you."

A smile graced the man's scarred face, and he placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Think nothing off it, sire. I'm just glad you're finally here. We've been waiting for eons."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah," the general shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not the best at reciting the story. But Lady Anathema will be able to explain everything. She's the Master of Magic at the palace. She'll likely be the one teaching you everything you need to know, as well. Best wait until she can tell you what you need to know."

Aziraphale didnt really like the idea of waiting to find out what was going on, but it seemed he had no choice. This Anathema woman sounded like the perfect person to ask.

Waiting it would have to be.

An hour and a half later, they started the final approach to the castle. Aziraphale peeked out, gazing in wonder up at the tall walls. They were easily as tall as your average city skyscraper. He never thought he'd ever be in a city surrounded by _walls._

As he stared up, he saw figures appear over the wall, falling swiftly towards them. Before he could cry out, thinking the group was being attacked, wings shot out from behind each of the figures, and they spiraled down into formation above the caravan. Upon closer inspection... they were... humans? With wings? Was this the weirdest thing he was going to see today? Unlikely.

He slipped back into the safety of the covered caravan and took a deep breath. He heard the loud creak as the city gates opened, and as they did, deafening cheers filled the air.

Taking a chance, he pulled the edge of the cloth covering back, to see hundreds, if not thousands if towns people gathered on each side of the brick paved streets. The few that caught him peeking, burst into tears, he hoped out of happiness.

"Right insane 'mount o' people ain't it, yet majesty?" The driver commented over his shoulder with a grin. "They sure are happy ta see ya."

Aziraphale couldnt help but smile a bit, and risk poking his head out a bit more. People bowed their heads and clasped their hands as if in prayer. He lifted his right arm, glowing birthmark showing just slightly, and people reached out attempting to touch him, even just the edge of his sleeve.

All these people were happy to see him. More than happy! They had been waiting for him, and while he didnt know exactly what he had to do, he would do his best to fulfill his expectations.

By the time they reached the palace gates, he had exited the caravan and was riding next to the driver. He waved and quickly shook hands with whoever he could. The flying guard didnt seem to pleased with his carelessness, but nothing bad happened, so he didnt care about their displeasure.

The gates to the palace opened just wide enough for the caravan to pass through, and shut as the last soldier in the unit slipped inside.

The general dismounted nearby, a soilder taking the reins, before walking over and offering Aziraphale a hand to help him jump off the high seated driver's bench. Thankful for the assistance, he took the man's hand and hopped down.

The general nodded his head in the direction of the palace, where a tall, slender man was striding towards them with purpose. As he stepped into the sunlight, Aziraphale could see the bright shock of red hair and the glint of light against the metal edge of round shades. He was dressed in all black; short black boots, black trousers, black button up short with black leather armor over it. A sword hung at his left hip, a knife on his right. He gave off an air of authority and Aziraphale fwlt like he was shrinking as the man approached. 

"Your Majesty," the general said as the red haired man stopped in front of them. "This is Anthony Crowley, your personal guard. He prefers to go by Crowley. He will be with or near you at all times. However, if there is anything you need from an old general, I will gladly answer your call."

Aziraphale smiled and thanked the man, watching him bow and return to his horse, going off in the direction of what he assumed was a stable.

Turning back to his new guard, he fought the urge to back away. He assumed this type of man only responded to confidence. Or at least a lack of fear. He offered a smile and stuck out his hand. "A pleasure," he said. "My name is Aziraphale. Ah, between you and I, I dont really care for these titles and such. If you'd like to just use my name, I'm alright with it."

He couldn't see Crowley's eyes, and his face seemed to be in a slight, permanent sneer. He let out a hmph, before turning and striding towards the palace, motioning for Aziraphale to follow. A little taken aback by the lack of returned greeting, Aziraphale had to jog to catch up, and keep jogging just to keep up. The guard didnt seem to notice, or if he did he didnt seem to care. 

Up the steps and into the foyer, and Aziraphale was speechless once again. While the outside of the castle was quite ordinary looking, the inside was something else. Marble floors and marble columns, royal blue rugs with silver embroidery stretched the long expanse of the front room to a statue of a man between two curving staircases leading up to a large double door with a guard off to each side. Two more doors on each side of the stairs also flanked by guards, leading where he didnt know. There were 4 hall ways off to the sides of the entry way, no guards but there were tapestries hanging beside them. The same royal blue background, with an embroidered owl in silver clutching a flaming sword and a haloed feather, much like his birth mark.

"Your majesty," a voice called, clipped and obviously annoyed. Aziraphale spun around, seeing Crowley standing in one of the hallways. Flushing with embarrassment, feeling like a scolded child, he hurried over. Crowley raised an eyebrow as he approached, but quickly turned away and began leading him once more.

Fearing the enjoyed wrath of his guard, Aziraphale did his best to keep up and suppress his curiosity and bewilderment, at least for the time being.

Paintings and murals, tapestries and sculptures. They passed so many amazing things, he want ed to stop to enjoy and examine them! He hoped Crowley wouldnt always be this way, herding him along to wherever he needed to be as quickly as possible. But he had a feeling it would be a long while before that happened.

They soon reached a set of doors. Even from outside, Aziraphale could smell a mix of all kinds of herbs. Upon Crowlry opening the doors, he took in what looked to be a lab. Books, jars of seeds and herbs, plants growing in hanging pots and on window sills, a large dish of crystal clear still water in the center of the room under a sky light, and a tall woman with long, wavy, dark hair and olive skin working her hands around in the air, purple light in the form of what appeared to be runes in a circle floating between them.

Crowley cleared his throat, and the woman peered over her shoulder. "Ah, so he really is here," she said with amusement.

Her hands fell back to her side and she walked over. "Your majesty," she curtsied, smiling. "My name is Anathema, Master of Magic, and I suppose your teacher as well. I'm sure you have many questions."

Crowley had moved to take a seat near the window, kicking his feet up onto a nearby table and leaning back, obviously making himself right at home. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, leaning in to whisper to Anathema. "Is he... qualified to be a personal guard? He seems a bit... lax."

Anathema hummed in amusement, looking over at Crowley. "Oh he's qualified alright. You wont find a better swordsman in the whole city. Plus hes not too shabby with magic, either. You're in good hands, it just takes time to get past his coarse personality."

He heard Crowley scoff loudly. So whispering wasnt much of an option here.

Anathema linked her arm through his, steering him towards the table she had been working at before. "So," she began. "As I said before, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Let's start with a little story, though."

She sat him down, and set to brewing some tea in a nearby kettle and stove. Well, it seemed like there was at least some modern technology here.

"Once upon a time," she started. "A man arrived in a forsaken land. With magic and leadership, he built a nation capable of great good, or great evil. And great evil wanted the throne. With the power of magic, this man kept evil at bay and his peiple were safe. However, all good things come to an end eventually, and the man soon passed away. But not without a few final words. 'Every thousand years, a new king shall arrive when he is needed, from a world much like and unlike our own. He will be of my kin, of my blood, and have the power to bring peace and prosperity. This I will promise to the land I love so much'. And as the legend goes, just as the man prophesized, a new king arrives every thousand years to assist in keeping this land balanced and good."

By the time she had finished, Aziraphale had a warm cup of tea in his hands, which was already half finished. He was intrigued, and a bit terrified. That was a lot if pressure in his shoulders.

"There is little more than that simple legend. And a thousand years is a long time for records to be destroyed or lost. As a country, we have little knowledge about past kings. The throne stays empty until the rightful ruler appears. And only one with the same mark as the first king can sit in it. In fact, theres a special spell on it that will repel anyone who is not the rightful ruler."

Crowley called from across the room. "Its all poppy cock in my opinion. Someone coming from another world to rule a country he knows nothing about? Absolute bull."

The guards words stung a bit. Aziraphale knew it would be difficult, but it seemed Crowley had absolutely no faith in him. Hopefully one day he'd be able to change that opinion.

Anathema scowled in Crowley's direction. "Its not fake, I can assure you. How else would you explain him showing up here, with the same mark on his wrist as in our country's royal crest?"

Crowley just scoffed and returned to gazing out the window.

With a shake of her head, Anathema stood. "I believe the legend is true," she asserted, smiling at Aziraphale. He thought it seemed a bit melancholy. "I know it's a lot of change in a very short amount if time. But please, bear with us. I'll teach you all I can, about magic, the country, and what not. Of course, you could always visit our library to get started."

Aziraphale brightened. "A library? Why didnt you mention that sooner?" He looked over at Crowley, smiling like a little kid. "Could I see it?" He asked hopefully.

Crowley's head rolled, giving as much of an exasperated look as he could give, what with the glasses covering the most expressive part of his face, and stood. "As you wish, majesty," he said with bite. It made Aziraphale's smile falter just a little, but at the thought of a library here, for him to use with ease! Ohhh it was just too much excitement!

Anathema chuckled, more in amusement to Aziraphale's reaction than Crowley spitefully response. "It was lovely to meet you, your majesty. I'll come see you in the next few days with an itinerary. Theres a lot to do, a lit to learn, and all needs to be done quickly. In a month or two, there will be a coronation and witnesses to see if you're actually able to sit in the throne. As long as you're able to, there will be no doubt you're the rightful king. But for the next few days, try to settle in, ask for whatever you need or want and the castle staff will provide for you."

Aziraphale smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Anathema. And please, just call me Aziraphale."

She returned his smile with one of her own and curtsied once again before Crowley silently ushered him out of the room. 

Awkward silence followed them down the halls. He assumed Crowley thought he would be some pompous fool who would be so thrilled to be a long that he wouldnt actually care about the people or country.

"Sir Crowley," he spoke up, stopping as Crowley whipped around to face him. "Ah... well... I know I may not be what everyone expected, honestly I dont know if I'll be able to fulfill their expectations, but I will try my best."

"You think I care about the expectations put on you? I dont give a shit about that," he snapped, towering over Aziraphale. "I was pulled from my position to be your personal guard. A position I busted my rear to get, and now I'm stuck babysitting the likes of you. Someone who knows absolutely nothing about what this country has gone through and what to do to help. I dont care what you do, just dont cause me any trouble, or I'll be your trouble. Get a move on, _your majesty._ "

Aziraphale was stunned for silence. So... Crowley hated him because he needed a guard and Crowley was chosen to do it? He would have thought a position like this would be coveted! Simple and easy, hopefully, all he had to do was keep him safe. How hard could that be.

He muttered an apology, and trailed after him as Crowley turned back around, grumbling under his breath about who knows what.

Thankfully, it didnt take long for them to reach the library after that, and Aziraphale immediately forgot about the little confrontation they had just had.

"Oh, my..." he gasped out as Crowley opened the doors to reveal a massive library. Shelves upon shelves of books, scholars at scattered desks doing research and the like. Librarians using magic to levitate books back to their rightful places on the shelves. It was like a dream!

Forgetting about Crowley completely, he fast walked over to a shelf and started scanning the spines, pulling books here and there until he had a good stack. He set them down on a desk and then asked one of the librarians for books on specific things, like customs, traditions, histories, anything like that. He figured that would be a good place to start.

The librarian happily obliged, and went off to pull some more books as he got started on reading. Hours passed, lights were lit with magic throughout the library as it grew dark outside. Aziraphale was hunched over the entire time, completely focused on reading and learning as much as possible as quickly as possible.

The librarian that had been helping him placed a hand on his shoulder gently, startling him out of his focus. "Your majest, the hour grows late and you need rest. Feel free to take a few books with you, if you like, they are all yours after all. I'll take care of putting the ones you dont take away."

Aziraphale stretched and nodded. "I think I'll have to take that offer. Theres so much I need to learn, I feel like ove just barely scratched the surface. Thank you for your help."

The librarian bowed and walked away, leaving Aziraphale to choose a couple books. He settled on a history book, and a couple books with legends and stories. Stories of a country could reveal a lot, and he thought theyd be worth looking into.

Crowley, who he could tell had been quite annoyed by how long they had stayed there, stood with a groan and raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale's reading choices. He didnt say a word, however, and instead led him out of the library. 

His rooms weren't far. Up a few flights of stairs, and down a short hallway. They came upon a set of double doors, and when they opened them, revealed massive rooms.

Keeping with the theme, the carpets were a deep velvety blue, and soft underfoot. The front room had two love seat couches on either side of a dark wood table expertly carved, as well as a chair on either end. Through another door was the actual bed room. The bed was, ironically so, at least a king size, perhaps bigger, with plush blue blankets, a few decorative pillows, and a canopy draped gracefully over the tall bed posts. Bedside nightstands flanked both sides of the bed.

The bed was off to the side, with deep walk in closet nearby. Across from the bed was a bathroom. The tub was set into a raised platform, with numerous soaps and shampoos lining the edge that bordered a window with a gorgeous view. It was like something out of a luxury hotel catalog.

Back in the bedroom, there were floor to ceiling windows that opened up to a white marble balcony that overlooked a lovely garden. There was also a simple little table and chairs, likely for taking meals in his room.

"These... these are mine?" He asked. Crowley just hummed and nodded. "This is more room than in my flat back home..."

"My rooms are through this door here," Crowley pointed out, walking to a door next to Aziraphale's bed. "Don't," Crowley started. "Bother me unless its urgent."

Without another word, Crowley left him and disappeared into his rooms. Aziraphale blinked after him, a bit stunned. His guard was just... so cold towards him...

Despite how nice everyone, except Crowley, had been, he felt so... alone. Setting his small pile of books on one of the nightstands, he took a seat in the edge of his bed. It was soft. He imagined he'd be able to get a great night's sleep on it. Key word imagined.

As he say in silence, everything that had happened finally started to set in. Almost dying twice, losing everything he had known, leaving behind a life he was happy with, only to be dropped in a world filled with unknown dangers.

He drew a shallow, shakey breath. Standing, he took off his jacket, vest, belt, shoes, and other small accessories leaving him in his shirt, pants, and socks. He didnt have any pajamas yet, so he crawled into bed like that. Curling up under the blankets, he did his best to try and sleep. He tossed and turned for hours before finally settling into a restless sleep, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

The first couple weeks were a bit like hell. Often in the middle of the night Aziraphale woke in a cold sweat, confused about where he was. After he woke, it was hard to fall asleep again, and so he would stay up reading. What else could he do? He couldnt wake Crowley for anything, he was too afraid the guard would snap at him.

"You look like death," Anathema told him as he sat in her lab as he had the last few days. She poured him a cup of tea like always and sat across from him to chat before they got to work.

With a sigh, he nodded. "I dont know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm settling in just fine, but I have these strange nightmares that I cant remember in the morning, and I dont realize I'm... here and not my original world."

With a hum, Anathema drummed her fingers against the table. "Well there isnt much I can do about nightmares, but I can make an herbal sleeping draft for you to try. At least until you really settle in."

"Oh that would be wonderful, dear, thank you," Aziraphale sighed. Anathema just chuckled and stood, moving over by where Crowley sat, lounging back with his feet up and arms crossed as usual, seeming to pay absolutely no attention to them or their conversation. She pulled a few herbs from the plants hanging nearby, then moved to her shelves were countless bottles of dried and crushed herbs.

"Add these to some water, or tea, or whatever drink you fancy and itll help you sleep. Dont take it unless you really need it, though. If you wake like usual in the middle of the night, I would take it then," she directed, adding all the herbs to a mortar and grinding them all together into a fine powder. Pouring it into a bottle, she capped it and handed it over.

"With that sorted out," she said, hands on her hips. "Its time we see what kind of magic you've got in your veins."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Me? Magic? I can do little sleight if hand tricks, sure, but I dont think real magic is something I'll be capable of."

"Everyone here has at least a little magic. And I'm sure humans in your world just havent learned how to actually access it. But since you're here, we can help you access and harness your power."

He was doubtful, but he stood anyway. Motioning him over to what she called her crying bowl, the shallow but wide round bowl filled with crystal clear water sitting directly under her skylight. 

"I will need just a drop of blood," she said, producing a needle from who knows where, and asking silently for Aziraphale's hand.

Despite his fear, fear of truly having no magic like he thought, he placed his hand in hero's. Quick as a lightning strike, she poked the tip of his finger and let a drop well up before turning his finger toward the bowl and watching the drop fall.

The blood landed with a couple ripples, distilling into the water and disappearing. Nothing happened for a moment. They both sat with bated breath as they waited for something, anything to happen. 

Suddenly, the bowl started to tumble, a rumble that traveled deep into the floor and shaking the room. A flash of light exploded from the bowl with enough force to knock both of them off their feet and push them away. Aziraphale slid until he hit the table, Anathema was pushed all the way to the door.

After a moment of power pulsing out against them, it faded away, leaving them to see Anathema's room in quite a state. Bottles and plants had been knocked over, furniture had been pushed to the edges of the room, and Crowley was standing, looking both amazed and annoyed. Then again, he always looked annoyed. The amazed part amazed Aziraphale.

"Want to explain what that was, Anathema?" He growled, shooting her a sharp look as she struggled to stand.

Anathema staggered, but looked completely ignorant of what she was feeling or the state of her rooms. Instead, her eyes sparked in interest and curiosity, much like a scientist whose just seen some chemicals do some pretty unordinary things, and how she got to figure out how it happened.

"It was incredible is what it was!" She exclaimed, strutting over and helping Aziraphale up, seeing as his guard had made no show of helping him. "I've never seen such a reaction before. You must have near limitless potential! Just imagine all the spells you'll be able to learn!"

Aziraphale blinked at his Master of Magic. "Really?" Was all he could manage, and she responded with an emphatic nod before racing over to a bookshelf.

"Oh I dont know where to start! The things you'll be able to do... you're definitely the king the prophecies spoke of."

Aziraphale lifted a chair and set it back upright, then took a seat. With a deep breath, he watched Anathema gather books upon books. Despite the strange display, he was still doubtful. "Are you sure I'll even be able to tap into this apparent power I have?"

"Of course!" She replied, whipping around to look at him, slamming a stack of books down on the table. "Honestly, it's not that hard to learn, once you really get going. Taking that first step is usually the hardest. Just dont get discouraged."

Aziraphale had a feeling g keeping his confidence up would be the hardest thing to do.

\--------------------

Another week later and the struggle was real.

Aziraohale had chosen Anathema to prepare everything for the coronation, since she had volunteered, so he was left to try and figure out how to summon his magic on his own. And it was as difficult as he thought it would be.

He had flipped through all the beginning chapters of the books Anathema had lent him, tried to copy the breathing techniques, the meditations, and spells, but it was all for nothing. He couldnt summon any magic. Hell, he couldnt even levitate a book!

He huffed, gazing up at the sky from his spot on a bench in the gardens. He had often found himself wandering through the hedge maze as he read through the magic books the last few days. Despite Crowley's noises of protest at having to trudge after him, he still found his way outside. At least today, he was relaxing on a bench.

He glanced over to where Crowley was, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. His gaze looked like it was directed over the small pond they were next to. He followed his gaze to see little lights floating around, slowly coming closer, then flying away again.

He squinted to try and see what they were, but they didnt stay still enough for long enough for him to discern what they were. "Crowley?" He called out. The guard looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He had gotten slightly less... prickly over the weeks, but he still seemed to despise him. "Those lights," he started. "What are they, exactly?"

Crowley groaned, probably thinking how the universe must hate him for having such an ignorant charge. "They're pixies. Friendly fae." He explained, not very thoroughly, before turning his gaze back to them.

Pixies? Aziraphale's eyes lit up in curiosity and he stood, walking over and kneeling next to the edge of the pond. He could feel Crowley's eyes on him, watching him closely.

The little lights floated a bit closer, but stayed at a distance. Aziraphale held a hand out, smiling kindly. "It would be lovely to meet you all," he said softly. "But I cant do that when you're so far away."

He waited patiently, and eventually, one of the little creatures fluttered over, landing daintily on his hand. It looked like she was dressed in small flower petals, with long hair tied up in the smallest little vine he had ever seen. Wide green eyes looked up at him as he pulled his hand closer so he could greet her properly. 

"This is my first time meeting a pixie. I hope I havent frightened you or any of your friends. I'm... new here, and I'm still learning. But I can assure you, I am quite friendly."

The pixie blinked up at him, then smiled. She turned her back to him and waved to her friends. All of a sudden, Aziraphale was surrounded by pixies, dressed in all kinds of colorful leaves and petals. Some sat on his shoulders, played around with his hair, or danced about in his palm. It made him smile and laugh a bit, and honestly it felt nice to relax from the stress of attempting to figure out his magic.

Then the pixies scattered, flying so quickly off to the trees and bushes that Aziraphale disnt even have time to process where they went before some force slammed against him, pushing him into a nearby bush. 

Scrambling up, he saw Crowley standing in the spot where he had just been kneeling, sword drawn and ready just as a massive man suited in full plate armor came soaring down from seemingly out of nowhere. Their swords clashed, and Aziraphale could see Crowley struggling to push back.

His eyes moved to the armor clad figure. His skin was a grayish color, eyes glowing red and a strange black smoke drifting from his nose and mouth. He let out a roar and pushed back, liningnup for another strike.

Even with Aziraphale's lack of knowledge in sword fighting, he could tell this... monster of a man was sloppy. In fact, it looked as if he was a puppet in strings, flinging his sword around wildly.

Crowley's sword deftly blocked every swing, dodged fluidly, and struck back with vigor. It didnt even look like he was trying very hard. Dancing around the creature, he was eventually able to get past his defenses and shove his knife under the armor to hit a vital spot. The creature froze, roar dying in his throat one minute, and black smoke exploding out of his eyes, nose, and mouth the next before he collapsed to the ground, looking as if the body itself had been dead for a couple weeks at least.

Scrambling out of the bush, he came to Crowley's side as he sheathed his weapons. "Looks like word has traveled far and wide that you've arrived. Surprised it took so long for something to happen," Crowley said, kneeling next the the body. Pushing his helmet off and turning his head to look at his forehead. There was a strsmg symbol etched into the skin. The sight made Crowley growl and stand.

Grabbing Aziraphales arm, a bit too roughly, he led him back inside at a brisk pace. He finally let go once the doors were closed, and Crowley called a guard over. "Tell the guards to double their patrols and the mages to ward the palace. Everyone entering the gates gets checked thoroughly or you'll be hearing from me."

The guard nodded and ran off to relay Crowley's orders. Aziraphale wanted to ask what was going on, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Crowley shot him a look. His mouth snapped shut, and lowered his head. With a jerk of his head, Crowley began to walk once more, this time in the direction of Anathema's rooms.

Crowley shoved the door open, striding across to Anathema and whispering in her ear. She looked up at him in shock, then over to Aziraphale, then back at Crowley, whispering back. His guard made face, and walked away, while Anathema walked over to him.

"Sounds like you had quite a morning," she said. "From what Crowley told me, you were attacked by a Wraith. Dead corpses stuffed with corrupted magic and controlled to do a casters bidding."

Aziraphale nodded. "I suppose I was. I dont know why though," he replied, shaking his head. "I havent done anything yet, I havent even had my coronation! Why would anyone be after me?"

"Because they dont want you to take the throne," Crowley cut in, snarky tone implying that it should have been obvious.

Anathema shot him a look and he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Theres... another part if the story I havent told you yet. I didnt want you to be afraid."

Aziraphale sighed. "Its alright. But please, now that something has happened, I need to know what I'll be facing."

"Back in the time of the first king, there was also a corrupted mage, with so much power that he could level entire cities. He had made some kind of deal with demons, the details are unclear, but the demons corrupted him and he turned to dark, forbidden magic to try and take over the world. Despite being defeated all those centuries ago, a cult like group has sprung up, the members following the same path as the mage had. We have no idea who the leader is, how many people are part of the group. They've been quiet and harmless until now. I suppose they're trying to kill you and keep the land in chaos."

Aziraphale listened carefully and nodded. It sounded like there was too much they didnt know about this group. And that was unsettling.

"So far we really uavent dont much to look into them, since they never caused any harm. But now we should send spies to try and figure out they're motives, and how we can stop them," Anathema said, though she waited to see what Aziraphale said about it.

"That sounds like a good idea. Send whoever you need and find out what their plans are. But since there isnt anything we can do until we get more information, the coronation will proceed as planned."

Anathema smiled and nodded. "You're starting to sound like a wise king already. I'll have one of generals handle looking into this group, and I'll continue preparations."

\--------------------

The next day, if an outsider walking into Aziraphale's room at this moment would see him sitting crosslegged on the floor, his eyes staring daggers into a tea cup while a magic book sat in his lap. He repeated the spell one more time, with conviction, and waited a moment as nothing happened.

Frustrated was an understatement. 

Crowley was off doing who knows what in his own rooms while Aziraphale studied and made poor attempts at application of these supposedly easy spells Anathema had assigned him. He thought he would have felt _something_ by now, like a tingle in his fingers or a swelling of power, whatever that felt like.

He shut the book with a satisfying thump and stood. Dropping the book on the table, he leaned over to grab the tea cup, setting it beside the book and walking into his bathroom. Perhaps a bath would help relax him a bit, then he would try again.

He shut the door and pulled his jacket off as he moved over by the tub. Grabbing a bottle that had bubbles rather than words on the label, he poured a copious amount into the tub and turned the water on, watching the solution foam up a bit.

He hummed, looking up to see a similar, terrifying figure hanging perilously outside the window. Grayish skin, red glowing eyes, black smoke oozing from its mouth. This one was tall and reedy, dressed in dark leather armor with a number or moves and other small weapons all over his person. Aziraphale didnt even have time to scream as the creature punched through his window and lunged at him, tackling him to the ground.

They grappled for a moment, tumbling across the floor. Aziraphale wasnt sure, as his fear had tunneled his vision, but he thought he landed a few hits to the creature. But he knew deep down a few punches or kicks wouldnt be nearly enough to take this thing down.

Due to his lack of any sort of combat training, the creature eventually had him pinned face down, legs pressing on top of his arms to keep him from struggling any more. A hand gripped his hair and yanked his head back, eliciting a pained gasp.

He felt the cold press of sharp metal against his throat and a terrified shiver raced down his spine. Was this really how it was going to end? No... no he'd go down fighting, not pinned to the ground and helpless.

He let out a scream, a strange heat building in his chest before an explosion of light burst from him, throwing the creature, and a good chunk of the wall, out into the courtyard below. His head smacked against the tile floor and he groaned, suddenly feeling very weak and dizzy. He pushed himself up just as Crowley burst through the door.

He must have been relaxing when he heard the explosion, because for the first time since he arrived here, Aziraphale saw his guard with out his shades. Yellow irises with snake-like pupils scanned the room in shock before landing on a battered Aziraphale who had finally managed to sit up.

His face felt wet and warm, and when he wiped his hand just under his nose, he saw quite a lot of blood, and he could feel more dripping down. "Oh, dear," was all he could manage before pressing the edge of his sleeve under his nose.

He saw Crowley walk over to the sink, where plush white towels hung neatly. The hoard grabbed one and came over to him, gently pulling Aziraphale's hand only to press the towel there instead.

"Stay," he ordered with a slight hiss on the s, before standing and walking towards the massive hole in the wall. Aziraphale did as he was told, watching his guard observe the damage with a slight bit of amazement. He couldnt levitate a cup, but could apparently reduce a wall and assassin to rubble.

Crowley peered over the edge, letting out a low whistle. "Looks like you got him pretty good, sire. Color me impressed," he said with a shake of his head. "Guess you're not as useless as you appear."

Ouch, that one sting a bit. He knew he was having a hard time with his magic, bit his guard didnt have to be that rude about it. Crowley stalked back over and hoisted him up by his free arm, keeping hold once he was standing, but Aziraphale pulled his arm out of Crowley's grasp and staggered back into his rooms only to collapse into a chair.

"Call a healer," he told Crowley, voice muffled by the towel. "And Anathema. I'm sure she'd like to hear about this encounter.

Mouth pressing into a thin line, like he wanted to snap back, Crowley gave a firm nod before walking g to the door, speaking with a number of guards who had gathered outside due to the explosion.

Aziraphale's eyes drifted away from the guards to the teacup on the table. The tremor from the explosion had knocked it over. Under his breath, he whispered the spell, and watched with joy as the teacup shook and lifted, righting itself before settling down next to the book once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy people are liking the story so far!! The couple comments I've gotten really give me a boost when they pop up, so thank you to everyone whose left a comment!!!

"Is all of this necessary?" Aziraphale asked as a tailor forced his arms out straight as he took measurements. 

"Yes, your highness!" He exclaimed. "You must look the part at your coronation, as dignitaries from all our neighboring countries will be there. You need to exude power and compassion, and the right clothes will help with that."

Aziraphale sighed. He wished his normal clothes were enough. The seamstresses and tailors had finally made him enough clothes, mostly in similar fashion to what he came to this world in, along with some semi formal wear and pajamas as well. This, however, was going g the be the fanciest. The best fabric, the most intricate embroidery, and imbued with all kinds of magic for protection.

And the colors... he wished they were a bit muted, at least! Out of all the height colors it could be, he was glad vibrant, deep blue was all he had to deal with. He had to admit, the fabric was beautiful and very soft to the touch. It would at least be comfortable to wear, but he wished it could have been tan, or cream, some sort of simple color! But this rich blue was the kingdom's, his kingdom's, color, along with silver.

The tailor stood with a satisfied humph, writing down the final measurements and setting them on his worl table just nearby. "You're all finished, sire! Itll take us a week to finish your royal garment, just enough time for you to try it one and for us to make final adjustments before your coronation."

Aziraphale thanked him and left the room. But as he did, he realized Crowley wasnt waiting outside. He looked around, worried, but a new guard approached him. With a hand over his heart, a salute he had come to recognize, he bowed before addressing his king.

"Greetings, your majesty. Sir Crowley asked me to take over as your guard, and if you wanted to, to bring you down to the training field. He is sparring with some of the other generals."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. Sparring? That was more important than his guard duties? He never wanted to make Crowley feel obligated to stay with him twenty forty-seven, but the man could have at least told him he was switching out.

Regardless, he let the soldier lead him through the halls. He had only passed the training field a few times. It was basically just a large dirt pit with some stones protruding out in a large circle and a three sided building filled with dummys, swords, shields, armour, and a bunch of other weapons he didnt know the names of. Anathema had told him he would need to learn at least the basics of combat, and she had shown him a few forms and moves, but she wasmt exactly an expert, and Crowley was very verbal about his lack of interest in teaching him.

"Its not my job to make sure you can hold a sword. Find someone else, I'm not wasting any more of my time than I absolutely have to," he had said.

Aziraphale hadn't really made time to find someone. He... wasn't keen on learning how to fight with weapons that he could easily hurt himself with.

It didnt take long for them to reach the training field. It was right next to a short open air walkway that connected the castle to the guards quarters, a collection of two story buildings that stretched towards the castle walls in two rows.

As he looked out over the field, Aziraphale saw something he had never seen before. Crowley. Smiling. Laughing, and having fun with one of the generals. He believed the man's name was Hastur, one of the older generals. From what he had learned, he wasnt much for the battle field anymore, but he had a mind full of strategy. 

Two of the other generals were over by training armory. He believed the shorter one with long hair coiled on top of their head was Michael, and the taller one who looked near pristine without a hair out of place was Gabriel. He could never forget him. His purple eyes were a tad unsettling, and he seemed to want to push Aziraphale towards things he didnt want to do. He looked like he enjoyed it, watching Aziraphale squirm.

As if sensing be was being watched, Gabriel looked up at him, a smile stretching across his face as he strode over. Aziraphale shivered. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Your majesty," he greeted with a nod. "I'm surprised to see you've joined us. I assumed Crowley had slipped away successfully."

So the other generals knew Crowley hated hosncurrent position. Lovely.

"I was just passing by," Aziraphale lied. "I'm still learning where things are, and what better way to do that then explore?"

Gabriel hummed, then waved his guard away before steering Aziraphale towards the armory. "Well, since you're here, let's see what our former general has taught you so far."

Aziraphale chuckled nervously. "Oh... no, I don't think I'm quite ready for sparrin-"

"Nonsense," Gabriel cut in, shooting him a look that left no room for refusal. "Its not like it will be a full out spar, anyways."

They reached the armory and Gabriel grabbed a sword hanging off a wooden frame. It was as basic of a sword as you could get. As the general dropped the sword into Aziraphale's hands, the weight of it hit him like a brick. This was a _weapon._ He could _kill_ someone with this. He never wanted that kind of thing on his conscience.

"Gabriel!" A voice called angrily from across the field. Aziraphale and Gabriel both looked up to see Crowley stalking over. When he reached them, he tore the sword from Aziraphale's grasp, glaring at him then turning to Gabriel. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gabriel gave a smirk, straightening to tower the few inches he had on Crowley. "I just want to see what our new king is made of. I mean, you have been training him, havent you? That's part of your job isnt it?" Gabriel asked, grabbing another sword and handing it to Aziraphale without breaking eye contact with Crowley.

His guard grabbed the other sword. "And, what, hes supposed to spar against you? Hardly seems fair for someone whose had such little training," Crowley countered. Aziraphale stared at his profile, surprised. The guard who hated him was actually trying to help him get out of this. Had he entered the twilight zone?

"Well, I was going to have him spar with Michael, but I suppose I would be the best to gauge how good his abilities are. Great idea," Gabriel replied, clapping Crowley on the shoulder before grabbing two swords and s ok me.leather armor, pushing past Crowley and thrusting a sword and the armor to Aziraphale. "Dont let him take these from you, now."

Aziraphale's pulse quickened. There was no backing down. If he pulled the rank card, he might be seen as a coward. And if he couldnt hold his own for at least a little bit, it would show Crowley hasn't been doing his job. Either way, if was a losing situation.

He reluctantly slipped on his armor, struggling a bit, but managing to tighten it so that it wasnt flopping all over the place. Just as he was about to pick up his sword, Crowley grabbed onto his upper arm.

"You're an idiot for doing this, you know. Just walk away, you're a fucking king, you dont need to listen to the likes of that twat."

Aziraphale pulled out of his grasp. "No, I dont have to listen to _you,_ Crowley. You can't insult me and retort what I say and then expect me to listen when you make a sorry attempt at advising me," he spat back, picking up his sword and walking toward where Gabriel waited in the center of the ring. Crowley had stomped off, taking a spot next to Hastur. He was tense, ready to spring forward if things went too far.

"Michael, you know what to do," Gabriel called out as he slipped on some leather gloves. Aziraphale looked over to Michael who gave a slight, smug grin, and kneeled next to knew of the stones. Dragging their fingers across it, the stone started to glow, followed by all the others. What looked to be a thin veil of light shimmered into existence. 

His gaze flicked to Crowley, who looked like he was screaming, his hand pressed flat against the veil, but Aziraphae couldnt hear him.

"A sound proof barrier. Cant have Sir Crowley directing you from the sidelines," Gabriel explained before brandishing his weapon. "Prepare yourself, your majesty."

Taking a deep breath, he hoisted the sword up, doing his best to mimic Gabriel's stance. After just a few seconds, though, he could barely fight against dropping the sword. How did soldiers swing these things around so easily?

Without much warning, Gabriel rushed him. For someone so big, he moved alarmingly fast. Aziraphale brought his sword up to block the attack, but his opponent fainted left and jabbed him in the side with an elbow. He stumbled, whipping around to see Gabriel was gone he looked around, then felt a body slam against him, propelling him across the field until he hit the barrier, causing him to cough and gasp for for breath.

"I have to say, your majesty, I'm quite disappointed so far. It's almost as if Crowley hasn't been doing his job," Gabriel said as he stalked towards him, twirling his sword in his hand. "A shame, really."

Aziraphale grimaced as he stared Gabriel down. "A shame?" He questioned as he brought his sword back up. At least with his back to the barrier right now, he couldnt be, essentially, thrown towards it.

"Do you know how many guards and generals vied for the honor of being your personal guard? Hundreds came forward. And the one general that didnt was the one that was chosen. Actually, I think he was just a young foot soldier when he was chosen. And since we didnt actually have a king, he was brought up through the ranks and given a general title until you arrived. He was undeserving of all of it."

Aziraphale's eyebrows furrowed. So if Crowley hadn't wanted to be his guard... why was he?

While he was distracted, Gabriel spring towards him, sword knocking his out of his hands before he landed a direct punch to his stomach. Aziraphale retched and doubled over, collapsing to the ground while clutching his stomach.

"Perhaps next time," Gabriel started slowly, tip of his sword pressed against Aziraphale's back. "You'll be the authority you should be and order your general to stand down instead of putting out such a disgraceful display."

Before he could reply or react, Gabriel's sword ran through him. The immense pain rendered him speechless and his hands trembled as he stared down at the tip of the sword protruding from his stomach, dripping with blood.

He gasped, choking on his own breath. Looking up, he saw Crowley, frozen where he was, hands clenched by his sides. He turned sharply to Michael, barking some kind of order. With a roll of their eyes, they waved a hand and the barrier dropped.

And as it did, the sword shimmered and vanished. His pain dissipated and his blood evaporated. He ran his shaking hands over the spot the sword once was and felt no wound or torn fabric from his clothes. He felt dizzy. Hadn't he just been on the verge of death from being impaled.

"You're a right prick, you know that?" He heard Crowley say as he approached.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and glanced at Crowley. "Why? Because I didnt tell him the swords are enchanted? He would have known that, had you actually been training him like you're supposed to. Admit it, you've been slacking in your duties because you never wanted to be his guard."

Crowley was silent, and Aziraphale knew that Gabriel was right. Crowley had mentioned it on several occasions. But for some reason it was more disheartening when someone else said it out loud.

Without answering, Crowley bent down and helped Aziraphale stand. His grip was gentle, unlike any other time he tried to help him out. Once on his feet, Crowley got the leather chest armor off and all but threw it at Gabriel before leading Aziraphale back towards the castle.

Silence fell between them as their steps echoed through the halls. Aziraphale didnt know where they were going, he didnt care. Should he care? After being run through with a sword only to find out it was magic and he wasnt actually impaled?

Crowley pulled him roughly to the side, into some random room. Shutting the door, he looked at his king.

"How," he began "utterly _idiotic_ can you really be?!" He yelled. The palpable rage rolling off him enough to make Aziraphale flinch. "Gabriel is one of this countries best fighters, even I can barely stand up to him, and you just went ahead and let him manipulate you into a spar? If those swords hadn't been enchanted you would be dead right now!"

Aziraphale's hands tightened to fists. He was sick if Crowley treating him like a child. "Well it isnt my fault entirely, is it? Gabriel was right, you havent been doing your job! You're supposed to help teach me how to fight with a weapon, and you would rather lounge around than help me. I know you didnt want this, but you really think I wanted this?"

He felt his eyes water and he groaned. "You complain up and down that you were pulled from your position to be my guard. I was ripped from my whole _world_! Away from everything and everyone I know and love. And brought to a place that's completely foreign, I know nothing about how it works, and one of the people that's supposed to be there for me acts like I'm the biggest villain when I had absolutely no say in any of this! So stop putting everything that goes wrong on me."

When he had started yelling, Crowley had actually shut up for once. And as his eyes watered and tears started falling, he started to look remorseful. Aziraphale turned away from him and wiped his eyes.

He heard Crowley sigh, then swear under his breath. "You're right."

Aziraphale turned back around, looking at Crowley like he had grown a second head.

A chuckle escaped Crowley's lips at the look. "Yeah, you heard me. I suppose... I have been unfair towards you. Neither of us really had a say in how we got to where we are now. I guess I was just taking my frustrations out on you."

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley sighed and started to roll up his right sleeve. In the same spot as Aziraphale's birthmark, Crowley had one too. Except his... looked like an outline for his.

His guard noted his confusion. "I asked Anathema not to say anything. Again, me being spiteful. I disnt want anyone, you especially, to know that we're connected. Just like you had no choice in being king, I had no choice in being your guard."

Then it made sense, why Crowley was chosen to be his guard over, most likely, some more qualified soldiers or generals. No one else could be his guard, not truly.

"So why tell me now?" Aziraphale asked, still a bit suspicious. Crowley had suddenly changed at the drop of a hat. And he wasnt sure if the guard was screwing with him or being genuine.

Crowley shrugged and fixed his sleeve. "I guess, as much as I tried to hate you, I cant. I dont know if its because we're connected or because you're not the type of person I thought youd be. I expected a tyrant, but so far you've been the complete opposite. Still a bit of a naive idiot, but ever person has their flaws," the guard smirked.

Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms. "You cant helpnyourself can you? You were doing so well, too, being all nice."

"Nice is a four letter word and I despise four letter words," Crowley grumbled. "I'm not nice."

With a chuckle, Aziraphale moved towards the door. "Say what you will, from here on out in my mind you'll be labeled as nice."

As he opened the door and walked out, Aziraphale missed a rather beautiful thing. Crowley gazing after him, with a certain kind of affection he was determined to keep hidden.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I apologize for the lack of super fast updating!! After reposting the last chapter exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks and I could not for the life of me get the motivation to write and update (and then pokemon mystery dungeon came out and I've been playing that) XD I'm still tired as heck, but I really want to write the next part so here we go!!
> 
> This chapter is more a collection of little events that happen leading up to the coronation, with... a bit of a twist at the end owo

The throne was intimidating, to say the least.

Carved straight from white marble, ingrained with veins of silvers and stretching high. The whole thing was likely twice his height. At the top was carved the symbol of the nation, which decorated the same tapestries one could find all around the castle and adorning the armor of all the guards and soldiers: a barn owl, wings spread, with a flaming sword and haloed feather in each of its talons. Even from where he stood, at the base of the stairs leading up to the raised platform where the throne sat, he could easily see all the detail in it. Even the simple filigree around the owl and down the edges of the throne were clear to see.

Cushions of royal blue had been set into the back, seat, and arms of the throne. At least he knew it would be comfortable. But would he even be able to sit in it?

Anathema had told him there were a few spells on the throne. One kept it in good condition, so it could withstand time and be available for the present king and those who would follow. The other... the other could pose a problem.

The second spell was to keep imposters from taking the throne and ruling themselves. Only those with the blood of the first king and had the mark could sit in it. Any who tried who didnt have those things, were repelled immediately by the magic protecting it.

He wasnt allowed to make the attempt until the coronation. But it was in a week, and Aziraphale felt like it was coming way too fast. What if he embarrassed himself? What if he embarrassed Anathema or Crowley? And what would happen if the throne repelled him?

He turned away from the throne with a sigh, walking across the massive ballroom, steps echoing on the shiny marble floor. The room could easily hold a thousand people, on the main floor, and probably a couple hundred more on the second. He wouldnt have expected the inside of the castle to look like it did. Marble and hardwood floors, hand painted murals, sewn tapestries. Compared to the stone outer walls of the castle, it was night and day.

Crowley pushed off the frame of the archway leading into the ball room, having hung back to give Aziraphale time to think. "Something on your mind?" He asked, a hand coming to rest on his sword. The gesture made Aziraphale shudder. Ever since the training incident with Gabriel, he found it hard to be around weapons. Pointy and sharp weapons, to be exact. Getting stabbed, even if it was magically illusioned, was traumatic.

He tore his focus away from the sword, shrugging a shoulder. "Coronation worries, I suppose. I'm not sure I'm ready for," he gestured about the room. "All of this. I never thought I would _have_ to be ready for something like this."

Crowley hummed, looking into the room. "Yeah, it does seem to be intimidating. Luckily I dont have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of nobles and dignitaries and foreign diplomats," he drawled on, spinning in his heel to walk out of the room.

Aziraphale shot him an exasperated look as he half jogged to catch up with him. "You really know how to make me feel even more anxious about the coronation. Does it amuse you to see me sweat?"

"Indeed it does, my liege. But I'd say it's the teasing that gets me off more than seeing you fret," he shot back. "Really, though, you're worrying way too much. All of this is just a formality. That mark on your wrist is enough for just about everyone to recognize you as the rightful king. And with how many of those cursed assassins that have come after you, that should cover the rest of the doubters."

Right, the assassins. Over the last few weeks, since the first couple attacks, there had been probably ten more. Crowley was getting increasingly annoyed at them, but he was able to handle the creatures coming after him well enough. He only ever used his sword, though. Aziraphale had yet to see any of the great magic power Anathema claimed his guard had. His curiosity was palpable, but Crowley seemed to like his secrets, and he felt that if he asked he would just get some round about excuse on why he couldnt show him.

Crowley continued to ramble on, as he had been since they finally came to terms and were getting along. "Per the Lady's request, I've stepped up security. I dont doubt there being more guards than actual guests."

Aziraphale chuckled. "I suppose theres no use trying to convince her to ease up a tad."

"Of course not," Crowley scoffed. "Your safety is her and my priority. I have to agree with her for once. I think a lot of guards will be a reassuring presence."

Reassuring? If anything, it made Aziraphale more nervous. It was almost like they were asking the powers that be to _make_ something happen. And all the fiction stories he had read featuring a king taking a throne, something always happened at the coronation that turned everything on its head. 

He felt a pat on his head, and he looked up at Crowley. "You know, just because your hair looks like clouds doesnt mean you need to get tour head _lost_ in the clouds."

Aziraphale flushed slightly and swatted his hand away. "My head wasnt 'lost in the clouds' I was just thinking about things."

"That's pretty much the definition of the phrase, Angel."

Angel. A rather strange pet name that Crowley had started to call him recently. But only when they were alone or with Anathema. He had pressed Crowley on and off for days when he first called him that, trying to find out exactly why the guard had decided to call him that, but he never answered. Just shrugged a shoulder.

Aziraphale huffed and kept walking. "Be that as it may, I dont believe thinking about things is a bad habit."

"Perhaps not, but its best not to dwell in things too much. It'll give you wrinkles like Hastur."

"Are wrinkles really such a bad thing?"

Crowley just shrugged.

\--------------------

"Beautiful, isnt it? Sapphires from the north, diamonds from over seas, perfectly crafted silver," Anathema sighed. "A perfect coronation crown."

Aziraphale blinked. "Well... it is beautiful," he admitted, walking around the little pedestal the ostentatious headdress sat on. "Its a little... gaudy, isnt it?"

"Exactly! That's the whole point," Anathema replied, pulling out a handkerchief to polish a small spot on the crown.

"But... I'm not going to be wearing this... all the time, am I?" He walked warily. It looked heavy...

Anathema laughed. "No, no, dont worry. Theres a smaller circlet that you'll wear on most occasions. This will just be for the coronation and any major gatherings or meetings you have to attend."

He let out a sigh of relief. A circlet he could deal with wearing more often.

"The adjustments have been made to your outfit as well," Anathema said as she straightened. Her gaze softened slightly in sympathy. "I know it's a lot. But you've been handling everything exceedingly well. Not to sound mean, but I would have expected at least a breakdown or two by now."

Aziraphale laughed. "I would agree with you on that," he replied, taking a seat on a nearby chair. They weren't in her rooms like normal, right now they were in a special room that held most of the kingdoms prized items and artifacts. Old weapons coated with dried blood sat in glass cases that hung on the wall, colorful outfits dressed mannequins that were also encased, enchanted scrolls overflowed in trunks and what was in them no one knew, strange shaped gems locked in cases covered in talismans and when he walked too close he could feel a strange magical energy attempting to coax him closer.

Why his crown was being stored in a room like this, he had no idea.

"I dont know what it is," he said with a sigh. "I fell more... comfortable here. Like I fit in a lot better than I did in my old world. It's... hard to explain how it actually feels."

Anathema nodded, appearing to understand but to what extent he hadn't a clue. "As long as you're happy, that's all that matters. It wouldnt do for the king to hate where he lived. Now come, let's work a bit more on your magic."

\--------------------

_Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Ho-_ "oh blast it!" Aziraphale huffed, bits of light escaping his once sturdy magical hold and flying off in every direction before fizzling to nothing. Good thing the indoor training room didnt have anything that would be missed if it was destroyed. He had already left a few scorch marks on the floor from messing around with fire.

Ever since that night he fought off an attacker, and leaving a massive hold in his bathroom wall that took weeks to fix, he had struggled to really control his magic. He, at least, had access to it now. But figuring out how to actually use it was the problem.

He had read so many books had so many lessons with Anathema, even Crowley helped him out a bit when he was really struggling, but there was just something about it that he couldnt grasp. And Anathema refused to teach him any form of combat spells until he could control elements like a master.

See, all magic was comprised of elements. Light, dark, fire, earth, water, air, and every kind of mix in between. Most people could control every element a little, or specialized in one. Anathema was proficient with earth and air, Crowley was unmatched with anything fire, and apparently he was great with all of them. Or... he would be.

He flipped the page in his book, pages he had read a hundred times by now, searching for something that might help him. With a sigh he tried again.

_Lift a hand, close your eyes, feel the particles of light, draw them in. Now, merge them, and hold it. Hold it._

He lasted a good five seconds longer this time, but he lost control again, and this time bits of light zoomed towards him and hit him in the forehead, making him drop his book and curse.

"Whoa, relax," he heard from behind him. He had almost forgot Crowley was with him, the man was so quiet when Aziraphale was training. Almost as if he didnt want to break his focus.

Aziraphale looked up at him, rubbing the spot in his forehead where he was hit. He sighed. "How can I relax? No matter what I try, I cant figure out how to hold onto the light.... I never thought I would say something like that."

Crowley clapped his shoulder a couple times, making him stumble slightly. "You're thinking about it way too much."

Aziraphale straightened and crossed his arms. "Doesnt using magic require me to think?"

"In a certain capacity," Crowley said, holding up a hand and tracing out the image of a snake in the air with fire, letting it burn for a moment before waving a hand to dissipate it. "You think about what exactly you want it to do, then just... do it."

"How very helpful," Aziraphale scoffed, walking over to grab the discarded book.

Crowley groaned. "Seriously, Angel. You're trying way to hard. Come here," he gestured to a spot and waited for Aziraphale to follow his instructions. Once in place, the guard circled around until he stood behind him. Exceedingly close.

"Instead of brute force," he said softly right by Aziraphale's ear. The feel of warm breath in his ear gave him goosebumps, but not in a bad way. "Try asking the magic what you want it to do," he instructed as he lifted one of Aziraphale's hands up like how he had been practicing before.

"Ask magic?" Aziraphale peeked over his shoulder. This close, he could just barely make out Crowley's beight yellow snake eyes from behind his glasses. He hadn't seen them since the bathroom attack. He remembered they were quite stunning, though he wondered why Crowley kept them covered.

Crowley hummed in affirmation, nodding towards his hand. "Give it a try."

Doubtful, he indulged the man. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He could feel the magic in the air, waiting patiently almost. So... he asked. Asked for its assistance, its patience, anything he supposed at this point.

The magic rushed in immediately, swirling in front if him into a ball of tangible white light. He peeked an eye open and wanted to scream with joy. He felt Crowley's hands on his shoulders as he watched. "Hold it, Aziraphale."

And he did. He held it as long as he could, longer than he had before. Only when Crowley tapped his shoulder did he let go, arm dropping and a massive breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaping from his lips. The light held for a second then faded away calmly.

"I... I did it!" He spun around, smiling brightly up at his guard. "You made no sense at the start but your advice really did help!"

Crowley smirked down at him. "You sound surprised. Dont forget I have my own talent for magic."

"Yes, that's true, but I've only ever seen you do little things like what you did earlier. Or lighting candles." He supposed Crowley had all kinds of tips and tricks to help, however he definitely was not the teaching type. Not just with magic, with his weapon training too. And the issue with his weapon training was that Crowley liked to teach without words. It was not fun for Aziraphale.

With a scoff, Crowley flicked Aziraphale's forhead. "What an insult! I can do so much more than light candles. You havent even seen a small percentage of what I can do, Angel."

Crossing his arms, Aziraphale peered up at his guard. "You could show me, you know. I believe I've voiced my interest in your magic quite often."

"Indeed you have. But I like to keep some secrets."

\--------------------

"Tomorrow's the big day, Angel," Crowley mused as they made their way down to the training field. Crowley had actively been counting down the days until Aziraphale's coronation, when he finally became king and could really start making change happen where it needed it.

He had learned of all kinds of corruption in the noble class, poverty in the larger cities, and potential war with neighboring countries. Not having a ruling figure for a thousand years wrought all kinds of horrible things down in the country. He had learned that when there was no king, the nobles ran a council to make decisions, but due to corruption major decisions were hard if not impossible to make, so the country would deteriorate.

"Its all so surreal. Like I'm in a dream that I cant wake up from," he replied softly, hands fidgeting together. "Honestly... I really dont know if I'm the right person for this."

"You're the only person for this. No one else can take the throne, and the nobles definitely cant keep running things," Crowley huffed. He wasmt a family of any kind of highly stationed person. Except Aziraphale. They had been growing increasingly closer as time went on. Close enough that Aziraphale had been confiding in him quite often, and often at odd hours of the night. And the guard always sat and listened, no matter how much Aziraphale talked or repeated the same worries. He tried to offer the same kindness to Crowley, but the man would just shake his head with a grin. "Dont worry about me," was what he would always say.

Aziraphale hummed in response, and they lapsed into silence. It was useless to voice his concerns, since Crowley had an ever growing faith in him that he would always make things better. It made him more worried about letting people down. More specifically, letting Crowley down. When.... had he started to feel that way?

"Well let's get some sparring in to get your mind off of it," Crowley announced as they finally reached the outdoor training field. He had gotten a bit more used to being around swords, now that he was getting a little better with them. He still wasnt a fan of fighting.

"You know, I never really got an explanation for why I need to learn to fight," he pointed out as they crossed the arena to the weapons hut. Once there, Crowley handed him his usual sword and leather breast plate.

"You're going to be the leader of a country, leader of all the people who live, work, and fight. If it ever comes to war, who do you think will be leading the troops? You may not have to actually fight, but you never know what could happen."

The idea of having to lead troops was frightening. The news back in his world would report on war all the time, but it was so far away that it was almost never on anybody's mind as they went about their lives. Now, there was an extremely high chance that he would be in the middle of it.

"Dont think about all that now, though," his guard said. "If you can turn people from hate like you did with me, this will be the most peaceful reign in our history."

That made Aziraphale smile a little. He did appreciate the confidence, even if he was doubtful he'd do that good of a job.

They made their way to the center of the field. Since no one else was around, Crowley didnt bother setting up the shield spell. They faced off, and Crowley motioned for him to begin. 

With a deep breath, Aziraphale rushed him, sword flying at him, which Crowley deftly deflected. That's usually what he did at the start. Aziraphale would attack him with all the moves he learned, and Crowley would block him and he would have to quickly change his attack approach to try and hit him.

Once Crowley got bored of blocking, they switched. Now, it was Aziraphale's turn to defend himself. This, he was much better at. He could block most, if not all of Crowley's swings, since throwing him off stance a bit and forcing him to retreat a bit so he could regroup before the next swing came at him.

This went on for a good hour, switching between attacking and defending, before Aziraphale was exhausted and laying on the dusty ground, sweaty and feeling like his muscles were on fire. Crowley, like always, looked unfazed.

"D-Do you ever sweat?" He gasped out as Crowleynloomed over him, looking amused. He reached a hand up, asking for help getting up.

"Only when I get a _really_ good workout," he replied, grabbing Aziraphale's and hoisting him up with ease. He was still amazed such a skinny man was so strong.

"So you're saying this wasnt a hood workout?" Aziraphale asked incredulously, wiping sweat off his brow.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, hand on his hip. "No offense, Angel, but you arent quite skilled enough yet for it to be beneficial for me, as well."

Aziraphale hummed, but then nodded. He wasmt offended. He had come a long way with his training, but he knew there was still a lot of work to do. He hoped one day their spars would be more fun than educational. 

"Enough for today," Crowley decided, taking Aziraphale's sword. He strode over to the hit, Aziraphale trailing behind, slipping off the breast plate.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stopped, a strange chill travelling up his spine. He glanced around. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

A sharp pin prick in his thigh made him call out. He looked down to see a dart protruding. He pulled it out, looking at it curiously. His vision started to blur and he stumbled. Another pin prick, this one in his neck. His knees buckled and he saw Crowley running towards him, but all he could hear was ringing.

A dark figure appeared behind Crowley, a club like weapon raised above him. A strangled noise escaped Aziraphales throat in a weak warning. But enough for Crowley to spin around and blast fire magic in the assailants face.

More dark figures appeared, surrounding them. Another dart embedded itself in his back and he groaned. Whatever drugs were in these darts sure worked fast. As his vision faded, he saw Crowley's figure elongate, skin turning black and shiny like scales, and a number of assailants converging in in him before everything went black.

The last thing he felt before everything went numb was someone hoisting him up and carrying him away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I'm sorry guys, everything has been crazy with the whole virus thing. And come to find out someone at my work tested positive so that's been on the back of my mind >-<"
> 
> I hope everyone has been staying safe and keeping up with social distancing!

Everything hurt. Aches and pains, and groggy on top of it all.

It was dark all around him. If he wasnt absolutely positive he was on his knees, he wouldn't have known what was up or down. The ground he was on was cold and hard, and his arms were wrenched behind his back straight out and chained to the wall. When he tried to move, pain shot through his back and shoulders.

Soon enough, though, his eyes began to adjust, and he could barely make out the iron bars of a cell door. He tried to turn his head, but a metal collar tightened and restrained to the floor kept him from looking around too much.

From what he could see and feel, there were steps of paper wrapped around his wrists and hands. Anathema man's words rang in his mind. _'You wouldnt think these would be as effective as they are,' she held up what looked like talismans. 'They're magic sealing sigils. They're most effective if you use the blood of the person whose magic you're trying to seal, but any old ink and an incantation will work to some degree.'_

Aziraphale shifted. More feeling was starting to return to him, and he realized he was more battered and bruised than he thought. He let out a soft gasp, a dull pain slowly returning on his chest.

He glanced down, and saw a few dark drops. Did... did the people who took him cut and bleed him? His stomach turned and fear started to set in. What was happening?

"Ah, so he's finally awake," he deep voice called out. He glanced up as a flash of fire lit the room, burning his eyes which had already adjusted to the dark. He groaned, then slowly opened his eyes. The man before him was tall and muscular. He had two swords strapped to his back, but wore little for armor. Aziraphale had a feeling this man was not the sort you'd want to get into a fight with.

"W-Who are you? Where am I?" He asked, voice cracked and hoarse.

The man tutted at him. "I must say, you look much less impressive now. All tied up and sealed. I'm surprised those men I hired were even able to bleed you enough to make seals. Though once they got one on you, the rest was easy."

The man held out a now lit torch, casting light onto the dingy floor. Aziraphale's eyes went wide. He didn't just have paper seals on his hands, he was sitting in the center of a massive seal.

"I'm actually surprised you're awake. You must be stronger than we initially were told. No matter, even if this seal cant keep you unconscious, you have zero access to your magic. Cant have you killing anymore of my men,"

Aziraphale paled. "Killed? I... I killed p-people?"

The man grinned maliciously. "It was a _delightful_ display, dear king. So ruthless. To see someone whose supposed to be so poised go berserk like that," he made a noise that sounded like a growl. "If we had met under different circumstances, I might have given you respect."

"You... you're lying. I...I-I couldnt have-"

"Oh, but you did," the man cut him off. "Brutally used your magic to strike them all down, burned a few, drowned a few, buried a few," he listed.

He came forward and grabbed Aziraphale's face. "But don't worry. I'll make you pay for each one of their deaths. Too bad I cant kill you, though. My employer wants you alive. For now. Steel yourself, mighty king, it's going to get very painful here on out."

\--------------------

"Let me go! I need to find him!"

"Crowley, you were shot with a lot of drugs, you need to wait until they're all out of your system before you go trying to track him down," Anathema said as two healers tried to hold him down.

"Fuck that, he's my responsibility! I already screwed up by letting him get taken, I _need_ to find him!"

A hand came and smacked him across the face. It dodnt hurt much, but it shocked him into silence. Serpentine eyes locked onto the witch who did it.

"You're useless if you can use your magic properly. And you wouldnt be able to command a squadron wsll with your current tunnel vision," she sat down on the bed next to him. "I know how you feel. It's already been two weeks since he went missing, and I'm just as worried as you are," she took his hands. "But we need to make sure we _can_ get him back."

Crowley looked down, sighing. "Its my fault he was taken. I have to get him back. I need him to be safe," _I cant lose him, you could never understand that._

Anathema patted his hand. "All I'm asking is that you wait until the drugs are out of your blood. The healers are doing everything they can to speed that up, but it takes time. While you heal, I'll handle getting an army together to track him down and bring him home."

\--------------------

Aziraphale had no idea how much time had passed. Meals were brought in sporadically, and their leader, whose name he finally discovered was named Agares, liked to wake him up whenever he fell asleep with ice cold water or a burn or even punch to his stomach. And that was when the torture would begin.

He was cut, beat up, burned, and more. He wondered when it would end, when someone would come to save him. He couldnt escape on his own, he had already tried. He couldnt slip out of his restraints, he couldnt summon his magic, and anytime he tried to talk to the men who brought his food, he was hit and then he'd be out of a meal.

He was a fast learner, at least with that. For now, he had to survive, and to survive he needed to eat.

Aside from those who brought his food and their leader, no one watched his cell. They were either confident he wouldnt be able to get out of his restraints, or in that he wouldnt be able to make his way out of this prison. 

As he sat in his cell, he heard the sound of boots and the smell of warm gruel. He didnt get the best food, but it was more than he expected. The cell door creaked open loudly, and a new man came in. He hadn't seen him before, but he lowered his gaze and waited patiently. The tray was set quietly in front of him, and then there was a quiet jingle of keys.

Suddenly, his arms were free, and then the collar dropped to the ground in a loud clang. He looked up at the man, wide eyed and about to ask what he was doing, but he held a finger up to his mouth. Time for questions would be later. He had to take advantage of this.

For now, the man quickly, but messily, dressed the worst of his wounds. It would have to do for now, he was sure there was wasnt a lot of time.

The man helped him stand, throwing his arm over his shoulder. Spending god knows how much time in those restraints made him suck in a breath as his arm stretched across the man's shoulders. 

Soon enough they were moving through the hallways quietly and quickly, hiding as guards passed or the man leaving him behind while he knocked someone out. They made their way through the maze of hallways, and Aziraphale knew he wouldnt have been able to escape on his own if he had been able to get free.

"We're almost outside," the man said in a low voice. "You need to run for the tree line, there's a horse waiting for you there."

"You arent coming with?" He asked the man. How was he supposed to make it back to the castle? He had no idea where he was! Not to mention he hadn't left the castle grounds since he get here.

"I cant. Someone has to cover your escape. Just remember, your highness, you have more friends in more places than you think. Though thays also true for enemies. Let's go," he said, drawing a sword before helping Aziraphale to his feet. He wasnt very steady, but he had to try, he couldnt take another day of torture.

"On my mark... go, go, go!"

Then they were running. They were about halfway to the tree line when he heard shouting from the parapets of the building, followed by the twang of bow strings as arrows began to fly. 

"Get to the horse and dont stop riding for as long as you can!" His rescuer called out as he stopped. He held up his hands and a shield of magic rose, blocking all the arrows.

Aziraphale stopped at the treeline, he could see the horse, a bit spooked but otherwise staying still. He looked back to his rescuer to see men pouring from the building with swords and axes drawn and ready to attack.

"GO!"

That was the last push. He shut his eyes and said a quiet thank you before turning and hopping onto the horse and speeding off into the forest.

\--------------------

A beat up man, hands tied behind d his back, was dropped on his knees in front of Agares. One eye was bruised and swelled shut, his lip was busted, and he had a huge gash in his side. Still, despite his position, he gazed definitely up at his former leader.

"I hope it was worth your life, releasing the prisoner," Agares said simply.

The man spat at Agares' boots. "You'll regret taking g him and hitting him like that, I assure you. He's the savior that's going to bring peace to this country."

Agares raised an eybrow, then grinned maliciously. "Too bad you wont live to see it," he said, then sliced his sword across the man's throat. A gurgling gasp escaped his mouth as his face lit up in surprise. Agares kicked him to the ground and watched as he bled out, a bored look in his face.

"Well that takes care of that," Agares sighed, sheathing his sword and turning to his men. "You three, go after the king. He needs to be brought back alive or we wont get paid. Meet back at the hideout," the three men nodded and ran off to their horses, quickly disappearing into the forest.

"This half," he continued. "Will stay here and distract whoever comes to try and rescue the the king. The rest of us will head back to the hideout. Let's move!"

\--------------------

Crowley reigned in his horse, holding up a hand for the rest of his troops to cease all movement. There it was. The run down, abandoned, labyrinth prison. He had heard stories of this place. The previous king had it built for prisoners of war. How it held up for a thousand years he had no clue. 

But this was the place. The letter they had gotten just a week prior said the king was being held here. Anathema wasnt sure they could trust it, but it was the only lead they had.

He turned to his men. "On my mark, we ambush."

The men drew their weapons and found better positions. After a few moments, watching as men patrolled the perimeter of the building, he signaled for his men to go.

Yells filled the air, his soldiers took down what few men were outside with ease and then broke inside and wither killed or captured the men there. It was over within minutes, filling Crowley with dread. They wouldnt have so few guards if Aziraphale was really here.

"Gather the captives," he told one of his soldiers as he dismounted from his horse.

A few minutes later, four captives kneeled in front of him. He didnt recognize any of them, or the emblem they bore in their leather armor. Which meant this wasnt a group that preyed upon his country normally.

He didnt waste any time. "Where is King Aziraphale?"

Silence.

Crowley hissed, rage bubbling up inside him. Black scales began to pop up across his skin and his tongue turned snake like. "I asssked," he hissed, flames dancing across his armor. "Where issss King Aziraphale?"

One of the men who looked absolutely terrified piped up. "Gone. He escaped three days ago. Our leader sent men after to capture him and bring him back to our hideout."

"Which way dis he go?"

The man nodded off towards the eastern edge of the clearing. Crowley didnt waste any time. He ran back to his horse, shouting orders for a small group of men proficient in tracking to come with him while the rest take care of the prisoners and bringing them back to the castle.

_Please... please be ok, Angel._

\--------------------

His horse was exhausted, he was in pain, he couldnt go on for much longer. He had no idea if he was being followed, and he had no idea where he was. His wounds had reopened so many times, and he had run out of fresh bandages that his rescuer had packed in the saddle bags. He had had to rip up his jacket in order to keep his wounds covered, which made for some hard nights as the temperature dropped drastically.

He lay against his horses neck, dazed and hungry. He hadn't eaten in days, and he was too terrified to stop and search for food.

Then, he heard shouts in the distance. "There! I see him!"

He perked up, adrenaline and fear snapping him out of his dazed state. He apologized silently to his horse before snapping the reigns and giving a good kick to its sides. His horse reared before taking off into the trees.

He could hear the men gaining quickly, and he kept urging his horse to go faster, even though he knew it was futile. He could hear arrows flying over his head, so he pressed against his horses neck.

Before he could hope they would run out of arrows, one embedded itself into his horses rear, causing it the screech in pain and throw Aziraphale off. He slid a good distance, but had no time to recover from the shock of hitting the ground. He pushed himself up and started to run. Pushing through the bushes and branches, he could see light coming from the trees. Perhaps there would be a way to escape?

He sprinted as fast as he could, lungs burning from the effort and warmth seeping from where his wounds were tightly bandaged. He shut his eyes, and broke through the trees, then felt the sensation of falling.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself falling towards a river deep in a ravine.

\--------------------

Wet.

He felt wet.

What was he holding?

It felt like a branch?

He let go, and he was floating again.

Floating down through the water, he washed up on a rocky shore. Where was he? What happened?

Oh, right. He was running from his kidnappers. He jumped off a cliff into a ravine. Where they still after him? Did it matter? He felt so tired. His eye slipped shut and he lost consciousness.

When he woke again, he wasnt on the rocky shore of the river anymore. He was in a cave. Bones scattered the floor, and there were clumps of fur everywhere, but it was dry and warm. He appeared to be resting on a bed of pelts. He attempted to touch himself up and heard a low warning growl.

He froze. He glanced around and saw a pure white wolf, twice the size of a normal wolf, laying nearby.

He gasped, fear rising in him once again. Another growl, and the wolf approached. He heard a voice echo in his mind.

_Calm yourself, human. I do not eat your kind, if that is what worries you._

"W... how? How can I hear you?"

The wolf licked its lips and sat next to where he lay.

_I didnt think you could. The last time someone heard my voice was eons ago. You have the same presence as that man. Perhaps that is what compelled me to bring you into my protection._

Aziraphale was confused. How could this wolf be eons old? And how could he have the same presence as someone he likely never met?

"I suppose... is should ask your name?"

 _Freki is what I have been called recently. It is acceptable, so you may call me that,_ the wolf said as he came over and laid down behind Aziraphale. _Rest human king. I do not much of healing or medicine, but I know enough to know you are severely injured. No one who means you harm can enter this forest._

He didnt need much more coaxing than that. He laid against Freki, albeit a bit hesitantly, and almost instantly fell asleep.

\--------------------

Growling and barking woke Aziraphale up. He felt like he had been asleep for days. Where was Freki?

He looked towards the entrance of the cave and didnt see him. Feeling like a bit of his strength had returned, he carefully stood up, using the wall for assistance and clutching his side he made his way towards the cave's mouth. As he got closer, he could hear shouting and more growling.

Once he reached the cave mouth, he saw soldiers in full armor brandishing their weapons at the white wolf. He started to retreat back, first thoughts being they were his kidnappers, but the colors struck him.

Blue and silver.

"Freki!" He called, and the wolf jumped back, out of range of their weapons. As he did, he saw a figure in black with a shock of red hair.

He sucked in a breath and burst into tears. "Crowley..."

He started to walk towards him, the rest of the soldiers having also stopped when he called out to the wolf, but he collapsed, both lack of strength and utter relief at seeing his guard again hitting him at the same time.

"Aziraphale!" He heard Crowley shout. He looked up and saw him running over falling to his knees as soon as he got to Aziraphale's side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around his king and hugged him tightly. 

"I'm so glad i found you," his guard whispered softly. "Are you ok?"

"I am now," Aziraphale said, gasping through his tears. "I'm ok now."


End file.
